


handsome stranger

by somehowunbroken



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, PWP, Size Kink, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 19:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18835561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: JT goes to Worlds. He's not expecting to meet anyone, but he's kind of hoping he does.And, well. It's Worlds.





	handsome stranger

**Author's Note:**

> -this is for mags!!!! who loves gingers so much :')
> 
> -set at a fake worlds 2020, which is not gonna happen this way because the leafs and the avs are gonna play each other in the scf in 2020 and that's just the facts my fellas put it on your calendars
> 
> -title from dodie's "[absolutely smitten](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0TAJwGniuUs)."

They lose, and it stings and it sucks and JT really thought this year would be different. Better. And it's not that it wasn't, except for how they're still out after the first round, and he just—

USA Hockey calls, and he knows he's not their first choice, probably not their second or their third choice, either, but—

He goes to Worlds.

-0-

The thing JT knows about Worlds is this: anything can happen, and what happens at Worlds stays at Worlds, unless you're Tyson Barrie and you almost bleed out from a fucking wrestling injury. He hopes he's at least a little smarter than that and that whatever he gets up to in the next couple weeks won't leave a four-inch scar on his thigh, but he also knows that he's maybe not the best at the whole decision-making thing when he's stressed, and he doesn't know how not to be stressed when going from a playoff loss straight into representing his country on the international stage.

He packs his hockey stuff, lube, and a bunch of condoms, is all he's saying here.

USA Hockey is do or die or whatever, so it's not like he doesn't know some of the other guys on the team. He stays away from Eichs, because if anyone's more likely to be sour and snappish after another bad year than JT, it's gonna be Eichs; he hangs around some with Brinksy, because it makes Stromer turn purple and that's hilarious, and he spends time with Hanny because it's honestly kind of hard to be in a bad mood around Hanny. 

He doesn't scoreboard-watch the actual playoffs. He doesn't need to see how the Jets are doing, whether they're steamrolling everyone else like they had the Avs, and he doesn't care about the other series, not yet. He will, just—not yet. He can't avoid it, not when he's surrounded by hockey players, but that doesn't mean he has to seek it out.

It's why he isn't shocked when Brinksy sits next to him one morning in the cafeteria. "Matts is coming."

JT grunts. "Leafs are out?"

"Yeah," Brinksy says. "At least they made it through Boston this time. Matts might be slightly less pissed off than he's been in the past."

"Sure," JT says, eyes rolling. "Anyone else coming over?"

"Stromer's Canadian boyfriend," Brinksy says, shrugging easily, and that's just something JT isn't gonna touch with a ten-foot pole, no thanks. "And their goalie, I think. Andersen, not Sparks."

"Cool," JT says. It'll be nice to see Matts again, at least.

"Cool," Brinksy agrees, and that's pretty much that.

-0-

The thing about Auston Matthews is that once you're his friend, he kind of doesn't let you go. He can seem kind of weird, standoffish, but JT has this thing about people not wanting to be his friend where he kind of chooses to bulldoze over it until they're friends anyway. Kerfy says it's weird but Josty thinks it's adorable, which means JT settles right in the middle of their opinions and decides it's probably fine. It's how he and Matts had become friends, and once Matts considers you a friend you just end up following along in his wake. The dude's a force of nature in the most unassuming way possible.

It's how JT ends up at the house party; they're somewhere a little way away from the hotel, and half the people here are hockey players he recognises while the other half all seem to be tall Swiss models or something. It's not a bad mix, JT decides as someone presses a beer into his hands, and he downs it pretty quickly before grabbing another.

Matts has disappeared, which is pretty much his whole thing at parties like this; he's probably going to pick up, and JT's been his wingman enough to know he wants no fucking part of being his wingman again, so he doesn't feel the need to search him out. He catches sight of Brinksy, sitting sprawled across both Stromer and Marns on a sofa, and he grins as he takes another sip of his beer and makes a mental note to chirp Brinksy about his two Canadian boyfriends tomorrow.

He's mostly just staking out a spot on the wall, enjoying being around people without really feeling the need to interact with any of them, when someone parks themselves on the bit of wall next to him. Whoever it is doesn't say anything, so JT looks over after a moment, and it takes him a few seconds to place who he's looking at. Frederik Andersen is big, JT notes, and it's not like he didn't know that, but goalies usually seem to shrink a little once they're out of all the pads and whatever. Andersen seems even bigger, somehow.

"Hey," JT says, nodding. "Sorry about the Lightning."

Anderson shifts, shrugging one massive shoulder. "Vasilevskiy happens," he says, one corner of his mouth quirking up in what somehow seems like an entire smile. "Hopefully next year we happen to Vasilevskiy."

JT snorts. "Good luck, man."

Andersen nods, and they fall into silence again. JT doesn't quite go back to his people-watching; Andersen's this big line of warmth beside him, and when JT shifts a little, brushing their arms together, he doesn't pull away. He's got this slightly amused look on his face that might just be his face, and JT takes another sip of his beer and tries not to think about how he's totally into it.

He thinks about the condoms he hasn't dug out of his suitcase yet, back at the hotel, and he looks at his beer. Fuck it, he decides. What happens at Worlds, all that bullshit. He drains his beer and takes a deep breath.

"Hey," he says, looking up at Andersen. "You wanna get out of here?"

Andersen's mouth quirks up at the edge again, that tiny half-there expression that looks like so much more on his face, and he nods as he steps away from the wall. "Yours or mine?"

-0-

As soon as the door to JT's room shuts he feels his back hit it, Andersen crowding him against it and leaning down to kiss him. JT isn't used to being the shorter one, and something twists deliciously in his stomach when he has to arch his neck to meet Andersen's mouth. It's a good feeling, Andersen's big hands on JT's hips, pinning him to the door, and JT's already glad he made this decision and they've barely been in his room for a full minute.

"Hey," he says when Andersen draws back. "I'm JT. Not—no hockey here."

Andersen nods. "Freddie," he offers with a grin. "Planning to use it much?"

"Unless you give me a reason I shouldn't," JT says, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Freddie's gaze darts down, and his grin stretches out, looks less amused and more predatory, and JT is into it without reservation.

"What do you want?" Freddie asks. "Nothing that interferes with hockey."

JT nods. "Fuck me," he says decisively. "I've got stuff."

Freddie hums a little. "Not that I'm not interested," he says, glancing down the line of JT's body. He knows he looks good, dark gray henley and tight jeans, but it's nice to see Freddie appreciating it. "But that sounds like it would interfere with hockey."

"You packing that much?" JT asks, raising both eyebrows.

Freddie grins and grabs JT's hand, moving it to the front of his pants, and—well, yeah, okay, JT reasons. That's a lot to handle, but he's never backed down from a challenge in his life and he sure as hell isn't going to start now, so he just squeezes his hand a little and grins when it makes Freddie pull in a sharp breath.

"You're a menace," Freddie says, like he's stating a fact he's just learned.

JT shrugs. "I know what I want, and I know what I can handle. I'll blow you if you don't want to—"

"You know your body," Freddie cuts in. "If you want it, I'll give it to you."

JT can't help the way he shivers, something electric zinging down his spine as he nods. "Yeah, do me," he says. "Like, I need prep, but I want it."

Freddie snorts a little. "Even if you prepped yourself before you went to the party," he murmurs, trailing his fingers lightly down JT's side, "I would still give you more. Not many people go out looking to pick up what I have to offer."

JT lets his head fall back against the door. He's been with guys before; just because he has to keep it on the down low doesn't mean he doesn't get around. It means he's been with guys of a pretty wide variety of shapes and sizes and swagger levels, but Freddie's smooth confidence here is really doing it for him.

"Bed?" Freddie suggests.

JT shakes his head. "In a minute," he says, and then he leans back in to get his mouth back on Freddie's. He's going to lose his goddamn mind tonight if Freddie's even half as good as JT thinks he might be, and that means JT wants to savour every single moment of the experience.

Freddie kisses him hard, keeping JT boxed in against the door and pushing a hand beneath his shirt. It's easy to arch against him, to let Freddie curl his other arm around JT's waist to keep him close, and that same something twists in his stomach again when Freddie pushes his hand beneath JT's shirt to rest hot and heavy in the small of his back.

"Okay," JT says, pulling back a little. "Bed."

Freddie laughs but steps back, and JT pushes past him, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor as he walks towards his suitcase. He doesn't have to rummage around; the lube and condoms are in a small red bag in the zippered pocket, so he grabs the whole thing and turns back to face Freddie in a matter of seconds.

"You came prepared," Freddie says.

"I was a Boy Scout," JT replies. "Or, like, I knew some Boy Scouts. Close enough."

Freddie laughs and takes a step towards JT. "Want to start getting more prepared?" he asks. His gaze keeps flicking from JT's face down to his chest and back, and JT's not gonna lie here; it's pretty flattering. "While I get undressed?"

"Gonna strip slowly for me?" JT asks, unbuttoning his pants and yanking them off. He doesn't really care that he doesn't have much in the way of finesse; being into it is kind of his whole thing, and it's not like he's gonna wear this stuff again without washing it, so he doesn't care if it gets wrinkled.

Freddie smiles at him, though. "I could," he offers. He turns a little, squares his body so he's facing JT, and slowly runs his hands from his hips all the way up his chest. He undoes the first button, then smirks. "If I'm too distracting, I can just go quickly."

JT groans. "Hell of a choice: watching you, or getting you naked quicker."

"It's a long tournament," Freddie says mildly. "Maybe we can pick one now and see if we want to try the other later."

"Yeah," JT says, dropping to the bed. He lays down gracelessly, but he doesn't hear Freddie complaining, and then he plants his feet and pushes his hips up so he can shove his boxer briefs down and kick them away.

Freddie says something soft under his breath, and when JT looks at him, he's staring directly back at JT. His lips are parted a little, and—fuck, it makes JT's cock throb a little, being looked at by someone who clearly wants to devour him. He grins as he spreads his feet a little, putting himself on display as much as he's comfortable doing, and it gets him Freddie flicking the buttons of his shirt open quickly and turning to fold it haphazardly before tossing it onto the dresser.

JT tears his gaze away because he's got things to do here, so he unzips the toiletry bag and pulls out the lube. He makes sure the bag gets on the bedstand, because hooking up with a roommate or two has taught him that nothing's worse than not being able to find one right when you need it, and then opens the lube. He squeezes some into his hand and the puts the lube on the bedstand, too.

"Messy with the clothes, though," Freddie observes, and JT glances up to see him folding his pants while watching JT closely.

JT laughs and rubs his hands together, which gets the lube everywhere but also gives it a cursory warm-up. "The clothes are a little less important right now."

"Only a little?" Freddie asks. He puts the pants down, and he's standing there in dark red boxers, looking at how JT is spread out on the bed.

"I mean, currently," JT says. He reaches down and pushes the tip of his index finger into himself, because wasting time is pointless when they both know what's going on here. It's not a lot, barely anything, but Freddie doesn't seem like he's going to look away any time soon. JT pushes in a little farther, then pulls his finger out and pushes it back in again just to see what Freddie will do.

"Keep going," Freddie says when JT slows down. His voice is low, and when he glances up to meet JT's eyes, his gaze is hot. "I want to see."

"Fuck," JT says, dropping his head back against the pillow. "You're hot, you know that?"

Freddie makes a noise that's probably half breath, half laugh. "That's a compliment, coming from someone who looks like you."

"Bet you say that to all the boys who finger themselves open for you," JT says, pulling his finger out and pushing against himself with two. It's a little more, a better stretch, and it gives JT something to focus on that isn't the way it feels to have Freddie watching him, to be putting on a show for someone he's feeling more and more sure is going to be a really good lay.

"I'll be honest with you," Freddie says after a moment, drawing JT's attention back to him. "This isn't a view I get to see very often."

"That's a shame," JT says, because JT's had guys do this with him before, lay on their backs and open themselves up for him. It's always good, every single time, and maybe Freddie needs to find a better variety of people to mess around with in Toronto, if he's not getting things like this to look at.

"Don't worry," Freddie murmurs, stepping closer. "I'll just think of this if I don't get it in the future, and that'll… help."

JT groans. "Will you get naked and come help me with this already?"

Freddie laughs. "And we were just talking about me enjoying the view."

"I have to tell you, Freddie," JT says, eyeing the bulge in Freddie's boxers. "If you want me to do this part all by myself, we might not get to the fun stuff."

"This is fun," Freddie objects, but he pulls his boxers down and steps out of them, leaving them on the floor as he walks to the bed and rests a knee on it. He reaches out, putting a hand on JT's thigh. "You want me to take over now?"

"Yes," JT says, pushing his fingers deeper into himself. He's got his head turned a little awkwardly, but he honestly can't help himself; Freddie's dick is right there, and sure, he'd felt it in the doorway, but god, god. He's _huge_ , and JT pulls his fingers out and pushes three in. It's not that he's rushing, but he's not nearly ready for _that_ , and his stomach is curling with how much he wants it.

Freddie laughs as he reaches for the lube, slicking his fingers thoroughly. "Let me," he says, shuffling to kneel between JT's legs. He wraps a hand around JT's ankle and tugs gently, spreading him open a little wider, and JT can't help the sound he makes when he pulls his fingers free. Freddie's right there, pushes in with two, and it's probably not thicker than JT was just giving himself but Freddie's a hell of a lot deeper, and it makes JT groan and flex his foot.

"Good, great," he says. "God, that's good."

"Glad to help," Freddie says, something dry in his tone, but when JT looks at him he's concentrating on where his fingers are disappearing into JT, and that's a hell of a mental image. "Let me know when—"

"Move," JT says, grinning when Freddie jerks his gaze up. "Trust me when I say I don't mind it being… kind of a lot."

"Oh, good," Freddie says. He keeps his fingers mostly still inside JT, but he lets go of JT's ankle and leans up to plant his hand next to JT's head, ducking down to kiss him. It's slow, hot, exactly what JT's looking for when Freddie starts moving his fingers. His hands are big, just like the rest of him, but it's not overwhelming at all until Freddie pulls his fingers out and pushes back in with three. That's definitely more than JT's had in longer than he likes to think about, but it's the kind of pressure that translates pretty quickly to pleasure when Freddie nips at his lip and curls his fingers up.

"Oh, fuck," JT gasps, reaching down to squeeze his cock roughly. "Freddie, holy shit."

"Good," Freddie says, and it's not a question but JT nods anyway, tilting his hips a little so Freddie can push in that much deeper. He flexes his fingers, spreading them wider, and the stretch _burns_ but it's good anyway.

JT can feel the flush spreading down his neck as he breathes deeply, but god, it's worth it for the way Freddie's looking at him, eyes dark and wide as he glances from JT's face down to his hole and back up. He doesn't stop moving his fingers, doesn't stop curling and flexing and stretching them, and JT relaxes around them as well as he can, trying to remind his body that he really, really likes what comes after this.

"Okay," he says after a while. He has no idea how long it's been, but Freddie's been fingering him for long enough that JT's starting to feel frustrated, right on the edge of everything being so good but not quite there. "C'mon, that's good, I'm good."

"You sure?" Freddie asks. He moves his hand, and JT can feel Freddie's pinkie finger pressing against his rim. "We can keep going."

"I will die if you don't get your dick in me," JT says, and it's brusque, a little rough, but Freddie just laughs and leans in to kiss him again. It's quick this time, light, and then he pulls his fingers out and reaches for the condoms on the bedstand. It's interesting, JT notes with the only part of his brain left online, to see Freddie's fingers trembling a little as he rolls it on and pours a generous amount of lube into his hand so he can slick himself up. JT didn't think that Freddie _wasn't_ into this, but it's still nice to see he's at least a little affected, given that JT's a sweaty mess on the bed and Freddie's not even in him yet.

"Tell me if you need me to go slower," Freddie says as he kneels back between JT's legs. He lines his dick up and pauses, flashing a grin at JT. "Or faster. I'm betting that's the one you'll want."

JT grins back at him. "Probably," he agrees, and then Freddie pushes forward, and JT's mouth drops open. It's—Freddie is _a lot_ , and seeing it is a very, very different thing from feeling it, the hot, hard length of him sliding into JT's body inch by inch.

"Shit, fuck," JT chokes out, twisting his hand in the sheets. "If you stop I'll kill you," he adds quickly, because he's been with guys who think swearing means he isn't into it, but JT's very into the overwhelming feeling of sex being just a little bit too much. He doesn't get it often, because it's hard to find someone with the right balance of size and confidence to pull it off, but Freddie's well-equipped in both departments. JT doesn't want him to stop, and he knows that asking's the best way to get what he wants.

Freddie doesn't push in all the way, and JT gasps when he draws his hips back and thrusts in again. It's a little deeper, a little more, and JT grabs his thigh and pulls it back to his chest so Freddie can lean in and fuck him open, sliding in more and more with each thrust until JT can feel Freddie's hips against his ass.

JT might not be capable of closing his mouth right now; he's pulling in breath after ragged breath, and Freddie isn't thrusting but he's not quite still, and there's nothing at all going through JT's mind except a static sort of sound. Every twitch his body makes is just another reminder of how close Freddie is, how absolutely full he feels, and it takes him a minute to gather himself enough to carefully move the leg he's been holding up, hooking it over Freddie's shoulder. "God, _move_ ," he manages.

Freddie looks at him carefully for a moment, but he nods, and he grabs JT's hips to hold him in place as he pulls halfway out and slides smoothly back in again.

"God, yes," JT says, reaching out and getting a hand around his dick. He's not close but he can feel himself getting there, and everything feels electric right now, Freddie's fingers pressing little bruises into his hips and Freddie turning his head to kiss JT's calf and Freddie filling him up, so good, so much.

"Good?" Freddie asks, a real question this time.

JT nods, almost frantic with it. "Yeah, yes, very yes," he says. "Just—harder, don't laugh at me, I want more—"

Freddie, to his credit, doesn't laugh; he smirks and kisses JT's calf again, and then he lifts JT's hips up like it's nothing and pulls out, and this time when he pushes back in it's faster, harder. His hips hit JT's ass with a sound loud enough for JT to hear, and he groans and lays his forearms on the bed, trying to get enough leverage to push his hips up a little higher, let Freddie get in that much deeper.

"JT," Freddie says, and he's breathing hard. JT's going to be feeling this tomorrow, probably the day after, too, but all he can do is whine when Freddie leans into him, somehow managing to grind in deeper, fill JT up even better. His hair is in his face, and JT can see that he's biting his bottom lip as he grinds in. "How close are—you have to—"

"Yeah," JT says, and he whines when he moves his arms because Freddie slips out a little, but then Freddie's leaning over him. JT's leg slips from his shoulder and he bends it around Freddie's back, does his best to pull him in more, and Freddie tightens his grip on JT's hips and thrusts, shallow but hard, as he kisses the breath out of JT.

"Come on," Freddie says, and he's shaking a little, doesn't ever stop moving. JT gets his hand between them, and he can't even start to describe the sound he makes when he wraps his hand around his dick. Freddie groans in response, and JT stops trying to hold on in any way, just throws his head back and strokes himself and clenches down around Freddie as hard as he can, and then Freddie leans in and bites at the meat of his shoulder, and JT shouts and shouts and _shouts_ and comes all over himself.

He has to just—take a minute, he thinks, breathing ragged as his brain floats a little. Just a minute, and then he can, like, be a human again.

"God, god," Freddie's saying when JT opens his eyes again. He's breathing hard with his head against JT's shoulder, rolling it back and forth there. "Do you need me to pull out?"

"Nah," JT says. He will soon, probably, but right now he's still loose-limbed and easy for it, and Freddie doesn't seem like he's that far off. "Take what you need."

Freddie says something that JT doesn't understand, too low and too fast and very possibly not in English, and then he pushes himself up and starts thrusting again. JT's not gonna get it up again, but it still feels good, and he does his best to help Freddie out, clenching around him and letting Freddie tilt his hips up just that little bit higher until he shudders and grinds in deep. He goes still, and JT's a little afraid he's about to be covered in hockey player, but Freddie pulls out and rolls just to the side before collapsing.

"Huh," JT says, mostly for something to do. He's still a little come-dumb—fine, whatever, he's still a lot come-dumb—which is probably why he doesn't resist the urge to reach over and pat Freddie's thigh, which is the first thing his hand lands on. "Nice."

Freddie snorts, but he doesn't move away. "Nice," he agrees. "You weren't kidding when you said you could take it."

"Not again tonight, so don't get any ideas," JT warns, and it makes Freddie laugh, so JT grins up at the ceiling. "We can negotiate, though. If you're interested. It's a long tournament."

"It is," Freddie says. "So you like it a little rough, but how do you feel about napping together after?"

JT feels his grin widen. "Big fan," he says. "Super into cuddling. In the other bed, though."

Yes," Freddie agrees quickly. He sighs, then pushes himself up and wrinkles his face, presumably at the giant mess they've made of this bed. "Okay. We'll clean up and switch beds, and then tomorrow, we can… negotiate."

"Good plan," JT says, nodding. He smiles at Freddie as Freddie stands, making his way towards the bathroom. "I'm looking forward to it."

**Author's Note:**

> -they bang a lot more!
> 
> -follow me on twitter for almost daily meltdowns about colin wilson, because i have a brand and i'm sticking to it. (let me know who you are, though, as i don't accept random follower requests.)


End file.
